Free Laurel: Bride of Arkansas (American Mail-Order Bride 25) by Carra Copelin Page A

employees suspected, Bob Brown, the owner of the mill, but no arrests were made before I left Lawrence.”
    He released her from his embrace and reached for her hand. Pulling her with him, he sat with his back against the porch railing, and drew her into the semi-circle of his legs. His arms encircled her once more, holding her against his chest.
    “You’re trembling.”
    Turning slightly, she looked up at him. “I’m better now.” She didn’t know why exactly, but shivers had overtaken her when he’d let her go. They’d subsided almost immediately as his warmth penetrated through the barriers of their clothing. His knee supported her back as his hand cupped her jaw, and his mouth found hers. The warmth of his kiss heated her further, his hands branded her everywhere they touched.
    “I won’t let anything or anyone frighten or harm you ever again,” he promised.
    His vow, while not practical, meant everything to her, and she counted herself among the extremely lucky mail-order brides. She reached her hand up, pulled him closer and pressed her lips to his again. She decided she quite liked him kissing her.
    Griffin reveled in the taste of her. Sweet, yet slightly salty, he realized he wanted more. He’d tried to convince himself in the last few years he didn’t need this, would never need this again. But he’d been wrong. This woman was exactly what he needed. He broke the kiss, but remained close enough that her breath fanned his face and teased his mouth.
    He swallowed hard and, with his voice barely above a whisper, he asked, “Laurel, shall we go upstairs?”
    “Yes, but . . .” She glanced toward the inside of the house.
    “Don’t worry,” he quickly answered. “I’ll put out the fire, and then follow you.”
    When she started to protest again, he covered her mouth with another thorough kiss. “I’ll keep you plenty warm tonight.”
    The next morning, Griffin laid on his right side watching Laurel sleep. Her cheeks were pink and her lips slightly plumped from their kissing. At some point during the night, he’d discovered that kissing her just might be his new favorite past time.
    She opened her eyes, blinked a few times, and said, “Good morning.”
    “Morning, Sleep good?”
    “Wonderfully so.” She smiled broadly. “You kept your promise.”
    “That’s good to know. What’d I do?”
    “You kept me warm.”
    “Ah,” he smiled. “Easiest thing I’ve ever done.” He leaned closer to her and kissed her nose. When he pulled away his stomach growled. Laughing loudly, he rolled away from her, sat on the edge of the bed, and pulled on his pants. “Come on, woman, get dressed. I’ve worked up an appetite.”
     
    ***
     
    Laurel met him in the kitchen. Since it took her longer to get dressed, he was already in the process of fixing breakfast, but he didn’t seem upset. It’s just as well, since I had a little more to do than put on my pants.
    He had bacon frying in one pan, the coffee pot was heating on a back burner, and grease sat in another skillet waiting to be heated. Glancing over at her, he grabbed the loaf of bread that Edna had sent, and then handed her the bowl of eggs
    “Here, take care of these for us.” Picking up the knife, he asked, “Do you want one slice or two?”
    “One, please.” She stood beside him holding the bowl, watching him intently. What in the world was she supposed to do with these? How did he want them cooked? She could break them and stir them like Cook had done, but she didn’t have any fancy ingredients, or she could consult Aunt Jennie. But he’d see her, and he’d know that she couldn’t cook. In reality, though, how long could she keep up the charade? Their conversation from last night about secrets echoed in her head. “Griffin, this may not be a good time, but I have to tell you something.”
    “Now’s as good a time as any.” He turned to face her, holding four slices of bread and with a broad smile on his face. “What is it, my